Snapshots
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: [Ash x Eiji implications] It takes more than walls to make a home. Every little piece of the puzzle contributes to it-- the place we come back to in the end.


_Snapshots_

By Kay 

Disclaimer: I don't own Banana Fish. If only. 

Author's Notes: Wow, once again I stuff more garbage into the BF fandom. XD I'm not even sure where this came from. Most of it is random snapshots, some more OOC than others, about Ash and Eiji during their stay in the apartment. There are no spoilers for anything past what's translated in the manga now, but it impacts a lot more if you've read the ending... :) Forgive the bad writing and bad characterization. I guess I just wanted to do something simple, a story that focused more on the idea of home and such. There's some _shounen ai_ hinting if you look at it, but I couldn't resist. Oh well, right? Enjoy. :) There's a lot of Clueless!Eiji. I like him. He's fun to work with. I needed a break from my ANGST!Eiji fic, which is still being written... 

Some of these snapshots don't make sense. Most of them don't, in fact-- they're just little bits of ordinary life. That was the point. So there. ;P Heh.

* * *

The steady clicking of the keys was unnaturally loud in the night, but the sound of footsteps was still remarkably clear. 

For a moment, Ash paused and glanced over the rim of his glasses towards the doorway of the living room. The shadows spilled over the furniture, pooling around the floor until they hit the hallway, which had been dimly lit a soft yellow only a moment ago. Hearing the aforementioned muffled steps head towards the kitchen in a familiar pattern, the blonde man allowed a small smile to curve his lips, relaxed his shoulders, and then continued to focus his attention on the laptop in front of him. 

Lost in his work and the comforting clacking of the keyboard, he almost didn't notice the other presence in the room until it was beside him. No matter, though, as only one person had that kind of skill. 

"It is a late night?" Eiji murmured questioningly, though he obviously didn't expect an answer. Carefully avoiding the papers scattered on the table, the Japanese boy set a steaming mug near Ash's elbow. 

Ash made a sound of agreement in his throat, idly glancing over at the hot coffee cup. He could feel the searing heat rising off of the ceramic surface and onto the exposed flesh of his elbow, and gratefully inhaled the gentle scent of mint and eucalyptus. "Thanks for the tea. I didn't wake you, did I?" 

"I finished book." Eiji gestured dismissively, smiling in an almost deceptive way. "And was going to bed when I heard noise." 

"Sure." Ash paused in his typing, surveying the screen with an almost tired gaze. He stretched his long fingers, making a vague face at the aching soreness they were experiencing. "It shouldn't be much longer. It's just… some things I have to take care of, I guess." The Japanese youth nodded carefully, his dark eyes watching Ash with their usual calm acceptance. "I will go to bed, then. Good night?" 

"Yeah, 'night." Still flexing his hands experimentally, the blonde reached for the mug and grasped it cautiously. After curling his hands around the steady warmth, he sighed and leaned back in his chair with a more pleased countenance. Eiji gave him one last smile before slipping away, heading back for the hallway with his awkward, slightly loud and incredibly familiar footsteps. 

Left in the darkness with the empty glow of the computer screen, Ash closed his eyes.

* * *

In the morning, he woke up around 8:00 A.M. 

It only took a quick glance at the bed near his to confirm that Ash was still asleep, curled up and tangled in the bed covers with his golden hair spread around his head. His face was relaxed, unguarded. It wasn't often that this was the case, and Eiji paused for a moment to study the expression with contentment. It was with a smile that he finally went to gather his clothes, quietly shutting the drawers so they wouldn't be too loud-- a motion born out of habit rather than the worry that the sounds would wake up his American friend. He gathered together the bundle of necessary items, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him with a quiet click. 

The shower felt nice in the morning. He used to take them at night, but that was back when he lived in Japan and didn't worry about having a roommate who came home at late hours with blood on his arms and clothing. Whether it was by courtesy or needless concern, he always let Ash have the shower at night now. It woke him up in the mornings well enough, anyway, provided Ash hadn't used up the shampoo again. They were already going through a bottle a week, almost. 

He hummed a little as the steam rose up around him, but not very loudly. The one time he'd actually felt comfortable enough to sing a random Japanese hit, Bones had come by early and heard him-- and teased him mercilessly about it. 

Ash had made smart remarks for a week after that. 

When he stepped out of the shower stall, careful where to tread because of the slickness of the floor, he tested the water to make sure there was still enough warmth left in it. He wasn't entirely sure why he did it; the building was richly provided, meaning they always had an amazingly endless supply of hot water, but some ingrained nagging worry still lingered inside of him that he'd accidentally take up all the heat one day. After all, Ash usually needed a blast of water to wake up. 

Satisfied, he ran his fingers through his wet, messy bangs once. The slips of midnight fell into his eyes. Eiji made a face at the fogged-up mirror and slipped out of the bathroom. 

_'I might want to prepare extra servings for breakfast today,' _he considered as he stepped into the kitchen, listlessly flicking on the television without a thought. The background noise always calmed him. The picture flickered on; it was a morning talk show. Good enough. _'Some of Ash's gang talked about stopping by later in the morning to discuss plans. I should make sure there are leftovers…'_

Besides, if he was serving food, he might figure out more of what was going on. 

"--despite the early misgivings of the network, they agreed to endorse the singer earlier this morning--" 

Eiji tilted his head, half listening to the television's drone as he dug through the refrigerator. Absentmindedly, he reached for the packets sitting on the lowest shelf, wondering idly what to make. Something healthy, of course, no matter how much Ash complained-- someone had to make sure the blonde didn't kill himself with all this greasy American food. 

By the time the sounds of sizzling pans on the stove filled the air, Eiji was sipping his first cup of coffee. Holding the mug in one hand, he fiddled with the stove buttons and made a face down at it. For some reason, it kept overheating these days, so everything had to be watched a bit more carefully. 

"You pick good apartment, Ash," he muttered aloud, disapprovingly. "But lousy kitchen." 

On the television, they were talking about the construction downtown. 

On the oven's digital clock, the red numbers blinked 9:30 at him, and the scent of the hazelnut coffee made Eiji sigh softly in the stillness of the morning. This place was a comfort to him-- the gentle yellow of the sunlight spilling into the kitchen, the soothing sounds of breakfast in his ears. Familiarity. 

Sometimes it was hard to remember his kitchen back in Japan, and sometimes that worried him just a little.

* * *

"You're going to ruin your hearing if you listen to it that loud, you know," Ash pointed out dryly. He sat back on the sofa, lounging against the pillows with a natural, belligerent grace and confidence that surrounded him wherever he went. "It's true. I've seen it happen." 

For his own part, Eiji didn't even glance over his way. The Japanese youth slumped in the stuffed chair listlessly, head resting back against the cushion and letting his hair fan out against the dark blue material like an inky halo. Fitted over his ears, the set of personal headphones only barely muffled the sounds of what Ash could only assume was some random, seriously awful Asian band. 

The blonde frowned at him again, pulling his brow down in frustration. 

"What the hell's wrong with you, anyway?" he finally demanded, looking slightly disturbed. "Usually you're up and messing around with the apartment, or trying to bug the guys to take you out… you haven't moved _all day_, though." 

Eiji blinked and looked over at him, a distant look of confusion spreading across his pale features. He pushed a slightly damp lock of hair out of his eyes. 

"I _said_," Ash repeated louder, snorting in derision, "_What._ Is. _Wrong._ With. _You. _Today?" 

Comprehension blossomed, and the boy lifted one side of the headphones up over the shell of his ear. 

"I _said_… what's wrong with you?! You haven't moved all day. You haven't said more than three words. You didn't complain when I insulted the leftovers in the refrigerator from last night, you haven't tried to shove tofu down my throat, and now you're in the possible danger of destroying your eardrums in the next five years." He glared accusingly with his light green eyes. "Stop ignoring me and _say_ something, goddamn it!" 

There was a brief silence. 

Eiji slitted his eyes dangerously at him. "It is hot. You complained when I try putting on air conditioner, as well. You can cook tonight." 

Ash gaped. 

Eiji slumped back against the seat cushion again, and proceeded to replace his headphones. With a smile.

* * *

The one and only time Eiji had managed to drag him out grocery shopping on the ground floor was like a nightmare. 

"Why do we need that?" Ash complained, leaning forward on the cart with his elbows. He glared balefully at the heap that was already piling up. "I mean, seriously, I'm starting to see where all my money goes. Do we really eat this much?" 

Eiji glanced at him over his shoulder momentarily, then turned back to the box he was examining. "You and I. Bones. Kong. Alex. The rest of your gang." 

"The guys don't eat this much." 

"Ah… yes, they do." 

"They wouldn't if you stopped feeding them," the blonde pointed out sourly. He snatched the box in Eiji's hands, reading it silently. "What the hell is this stuff?" 

"Dinner," replied the dark-haired boy evenly. He smiled slightly, reclaiming the box and adding it to the cart. Tugging gently on the front to make Ash start pushing, he continued, "It is good for you. Healthy food. Better than your American food, yes?" 

Ash made a face at his back. 

"This why so many American have bad health. They do not eat correctly. I do this for you so that you will live many, many year in good shape," Eiji added firmly, his dark eyes roaming the shelves curiously for items. "And your gang, as well, yes? They live many, many year, too!" 

"We don't need that," was all Ash said, watching another box go into the cart. Eiji frowned at him. 

"Yes, we do." 

"Not this, either." He picked at a few other things in the shopping cart, making faces at each one. "What is this stuff? Are you planning on poisoning me? Hey… hey, Eiji?" But the other boy wasn't listening to him. Instead, he was reading the back of a tea box, scanning the words quickly in concentration. He was biting his lip. 

Ash sighed. 

"Ash?" Eiji looked up at him questioningly. "Do you think green tea or mint tea better this week?" 

"Why don't you just get both?" Ash remarked sarcastically, throwing his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Okay, this is good idea! Thank you!" The two boxes went in. The blonde nearly hit his head on the shelves in frustration. 

"That's not what I--" 

"Oh, there is Mrs. Coleman! She want to meet you. Mrs. Coleman!" Eiji waved towards the end of the aisle wildly, beaming at a small, gray-haired woman heading towards them with an equally sunny smile. 

Ash looked around. There was no place to hide. 

This would be the last time he went shopping with Eiji, ever again.

* * *

The doormen all knew him by name. 

"Good morning, Eiji," Daniel Ryle said at the door, tipping his hat with a rakish grin on his face. He didn't do that for everyone-- the young Asian boy knew that, had seen it only a few times-- so he did his best to smile back as much as possible. 

"Good morning, Mr. Ryle." 

"Call me Danny, you know?" 

"Ah… yes, _sumimasen._ Danny." 

This made any of Ash's gang snicker at him behind his back, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Sometimes they elbowed him and muttered funny words that he didn't quite understand, so he tried to laugh weakly and let it go. After a while, they seemed to realize he wasn't quite getting it, so they just restrained themselves to grinning wildly when it happened. Which it did. Almost every day. 

The one day Ash was with him to hear it, the blonde stopped suddenly. He stared at the doormen like he was crazy. 

"Ash?" Eiji turned back curiously. 

"Nothing." The blonde scowled a bit, whirling away. "Come on, Eiji," he added firmly-- and then did something very particular. 

He looped an arm around Eiji's waist and, pulling him close, tugged him away from the building. Stumbling along with him, completely perplexed, the dark-eyed boy only went along for the entire block it lasted. As soon as they were out of sight of the hotel entrance, Ash let go. 

Eiji stared at him. The warmth from the blonde was still tingling against his side, and he felt a flush rise to his face. Ash noticed his inquiring glance, but only coughed. His green eyes avoided looking at him, and he gruffly said, "Forget it. Just come on." 

So he did. 

Strangely enough, Danny never asked him to call him by first name again.

* * *

Ash had never thought much of it, but Eiji had always done their laundry. 

It had been taken for granted, of course. He'd almost forgotten that fact, except one morning when he'd tugged on one of his shirts. Almost immediately, he paused-- the fabric carried the faint scent of… flowers? 

He went out into the kitchen. "Hey… Eiji? What do you wash the clothes with?" 

The dark-eyed youth blinked at him. "Ah… Downy, I believe. Is this bad?" His confused expression changed as his eyes widened in slight alarm. "You are not allergic, no?" 

"No," mumbled Ash. He started to say something, then stopped. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "No, never mind. It's fine." 

Hopefully no one in the gang had a good sense of smell on him.

* * *

Eiji liked to tell him to be safe, Ash noticed. 

Whenever he went out at night to do his job, Eiji said,_ 'Be safe.'_

If he was going out for a drive in the city, Eiji said, _'Be safe.'_

When he went to the library, Eiji said, _'Be safe.'_

Then, one night when he needed to go out with the gang and look up on a contact, Ash shrugged on his coat. He told Eiji where he was going, stepped into the hallway, and paused at the door. His hand rested idly on the knob. 

He waited. 

There was nothing but silence from the kitchen. Going to the doorway again, he stared at Eiji's back until the youth turned to him and-- in surprise-- asked, "Is something wrong?" 

"No," Ash said. But he felt a little sick when he went out the door.

* * *

While he was making dinner, Eiji let out a sudden curse in Japanese, standing back from the counter and clutching his right-hand fingers tightly. 

"What's wrong?" Ash asked quickly, standing from the table. 

"Ah… it is nothing. The knife… slipped. Surprised me, that is all." The dark-eyed youth carefully wrapped a dishtowel around his hand, but not before Ash could see the splash of crimson glistening under the kitchen lights. 

It made his stomach lurch. 

"That's… here, let me have a look--" 

"It fine," Eiji protested, but his face was a little pale. "I should be more careful, it my fault…" 

"Look, just let me take a quick look at it…" 

Eiji made a tight, strangled sound in his throat when Ash cautiously pried away the dishtowel, and they both stared at the garish cut that had sliced down from his palm to his thumb. It was shallow, but the blood was already seeping through the pristine white cloth. After a moment, the blonde swallowed heavily, looking away. 

"I'll, uh, get the first aid kit…" 

"A-ah… thank you." 

Red was, Ash thought numbly to himself as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinet with slightly shaking hands, a horrible color on Eiji Okumura.

* * *

"Ash…" At his name, the blonde looked back inquiringly, one hand on the doorknob ready to leave. Eiji stood at the hallway entrance, awkwardly rocking back on his heels with a piece of fuzzy, green-plaid material in his hands. 

"What is it?" 

"It is cold; take this." Eiji held the material out-- it was a scarf, he realized as the boy suddenly stretched it and stepped towards him. With a shy sort of smile, the Japanese boy rocked on his heels again and, up on his toes, looped the disarrayed fabric around his neck. His breath was unsteady against his ear for only a moment, the warmth of his arms brushing against his shoulders-- 

And it was gone. Eiji grinned up at him. "You not catch cold with this." 

Ash blinked. He fingered the scarf. It itched. "Oh… okay." 

He wondered if the cold made Eiji's face red, or… no, it really was chilly today.

* * *

It was, Eiji reflected dully, the ugliest form of despair he'd ever known. 

"I hate it when you do this," he whispered softly, bowing his head so that Ash could see nothing but the smattering of black bangs across his face. He tried to concentrate on dabbing the blood away from the blonde's calf where a bullet had grazed by. It wasn't deep, but it looked as though the flesh had ripped fairly bad. "I wish you did not have to do this." 

The blonde didn't say anything for a long time. 

When Eiji had finally finished dressing the wound, a hand fell on his hair. It rested there for only a moment, but it was enough. He couldn't make himself look up, but swallowed the lump in his throat noisily. His eyes burned. 

"Thanks," was all Ash said in the stillness, but it said volumes.

* * *

"You _cannot_ go out tonight! You are exhausted!" 

"I'm fine," Ash hissed, eyes flashing angrily. He snatched his coat off of the hook, struggling to shove his arms into it while glaring at his friend. "Look, get off my back, okay?" 

Eiji set his jaw, trying to hold back a scowl. "I am not on any back… I just saying, is all…" 

"I've handled worse than this before!" 

"That does not matter!" 

"Jesus, just let it go!" 

"I worry about you enough-- this is too much!" 

Ash's fist crashed into the wall hard enough to shake it. "Then _stop_ worrying about me! Just stop it!" 

For a moment, Eiji was quiet, just looking at his face, the wall, and the shaking in his fist. There was nothing between them except harsh, violent breathing and the sound of the street outside their windows. Then, ever so softly, he said, "Do you wish that was me?" 

Immediately, the indignation and color drained from Ash's face. The blonde stared at him, transfixed and horrified, and then down at the clenched fist still quaking at his side. Jerking, he released it, inhaling with a shuddering breath that went all the way to his toes. 

"God… no. No, I wasn't… it's just…" The blonde ran a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut and taking another deep gulp of air. "I'm sorry. No, I'm not sorry. Shit, that wasn't what I wanted to do, and you know it… I would never. You _know_ that." 

"Yes, I…" Eiji paused, hesitance flickering momentarily over his face. "I just… worry for you sometimes. That is all." 

It took a second, but gradually Ash's tense shoulders relaxed. He sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against the cool window pane in front of him, trapping wayward strands of gold against the glass. "I know. Shit. Sorry." 

"There is no need." Carefully, Eiji put a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, feeling the muscles tighten and, with a last struggle, ease under the soft pressure of his fingertips. "I am wrong, as well." 

A bitter smile curved Ash's lips, but it was only visible to his reflection in the window. "You're too good to me. You do these things… and you never ask for anything back. You're different from anyone I've ever met, Eiji, you know that?" 

"I am not so different; I ask for things, as well." A tiny laugh escaped the Japanese boy's lungs, breathless and embarrassed. "Your friendship. Company. To stay with you, as long as you will have me." 

"They're things I can give…" The silent, added, _'for now'_ was louder than the spoken words in the stillness between them. 

"But they are precious, yes?" 

Ash didn't answer, but his hand reached up over his shoulder and touched Eiji's slim, pale hand. It lingered for stretched, unidentifiable moments-- warm and solid and real against the flesh so different from his own-- just touching as they stood and listened to the pattering of the rain outside. 

The curves of Eiji's fingernails were blunt, and he remembered the feeling for the rest of his life.

* * *

The door hit the frame with a dull thud, but Ash was too tired to care about the awkward sound. 

He threw his coat onto the nearest coffee table, carelessly shrugging out of the material like it weighed a hundred pounds. The sun was sinking below the horizon in the windows, hitting the room with an orange glow. From the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of dishes clinking in the sink, and a low, steady hum that wasn't really a song, but more of a constant sound in the stillness. 

He stumbled towards the kitchen. 

At the sink, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Eiji turned to look at him quizzically. His hands were dripping. 

Ash stared. 

"Oh! I didn't…" Eiji flushed slightly, and then grinned. "Welcome home!" 

Ash smiled a little.

* * *

Whenever Ash came back to the apartment, there was a light going. 

Sometimes it was the lamp by Eiji's bedside, throwing subtle shadows over the way he was slumped over his bed, a book fallen on the floor where he'd dropped it when finally succumbing to sleep. Other times, the light was in the kitchen, where the Japanese youth was waiting for him with a cup of coffee or tea, smiling up from the kitchen table with gentle acceptance. 

Sometimes it was in the living room, where he'd stretched on the couch to watch a late-night movie. With the light on. 

And once, after a very, very late night, Ash came home to find the a flashlight still glowing brightly in the living room, clutched in Eiji's hand as he slept on the sofa. It had stormed since the afternoon, and the power had gone out before twilight. 

He pried it gently from his friend's tight fingers and turned the switch off. In the darkness, Eiji mumbled in his sleep and reached out to touch him. 

By the time he'd covered the sleeping boy with a blanket, the sun was already coming up through the windows.

* * *

"Have a good day. I see you later tonight," Eiji told him as he went out the door, as though it were obvious. Ash glanced back. Hesitated. 

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

Sometimes Ash had horrible nightmares. 

He dreamt of the past-- the most cunning and awful creature he'd ever faced in his years on the street-- and of the things he'd longed to forget. Petrifying nights, the cool whispers against an unwilling ear, and a thousand regrets he had yet to realize in the light of day. These things were normal. They played throughout his mind like a reel of film, constantly repeating, continually condemning. 

Sometimes he woke up with the tears still drying on his face. Sometimes he felt a hand gently running through his hair-- and sometimes that was an illusion, too, but sometimes he'd look up and Eiji would peer at him from the darkness worriedly. 

_'You were having nightmare… okay now?'_

The touch soothed even the fiercest of trembling, and Ash would never ask himself why. The answer was dangerous-- too difficult to face head-on, though often he would glance at it from the corner of his eye. 

_'Yeah… yeah, I'm fine.'_ Roll over, shut your eyes tightly, ignore the pang of loss when that hand slowly lifted free of the golden strands of hair-- Ash knew how to pretend better than anyone, but even he couldn't force back the swallow in his throat. Nights like these made him weak. Cornered. 

But never trapped. 

He slept some nights, his arm reaching for something that wasn't near enough to touch, but he dreamt… sometimes of Eiji, and these were usually nonsensical and full of strange images and pictures. Dashes of light and the sudden pallor of pale shadows. A quiet laugh. A flashlight in the pitch black. A whisper by his ear. 

And sometimes when he slept, he dreamt that they were sitting in a golden field, just soundlessly talking, their fingers reaching to touch on slivers of sunlight.

* * *

_Owari _


End file.
